


Cliche

by Melodious329



Series: Rentboy [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Kane (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Rentboy<br/>So how does Steve convince Chris...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cliche

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I neither own nor know the real persons after whom these characters were created

Steve wakes up early, too many thoughts in his head he supposes. Thoughts swirling around the kid on the other side of this giant bed still sleeping soundly, his face turned towards Steve and smushed into the fluffy pillow.

Steve asks himself for the five millionth time if he’s really going to do this, keep this kid. Jesus, he’s not a stray puppy. What is he going to tell people? How will he introduce Chris? He can’t say that Chris is his boyfriend. Even if his friends believed him, which they wouldn’t, but when they get to his house, Steve needs to keep his hands off the kid. The point is to give Chris choices, to give him the security, financially and emotionally, that Chris can decide who he wants to sleep with.

But it didn’t matter how much time Steve had spent thinking about this very moment, when clear blue eyes opened, Steve isn’t prepared. He can only watch as those blue eyes widen comically at realizing that he isn’t alone in bed and then Chris is jack-knifing up to a sitting position, scanning the room as if he either can’t remember getting here or is waiting for ten other people to jump out at him.

Steve sits up slowly himself which may be a mistake as Chris’s eyes are immediately drawn to Steve’s bare chest. He’s still wearing his boxers but with the covers over him, Chris doesn’t know that. He’s just opening his mouth when Chris speaks.

“What are you…Where’s the money?!” the kid demands, sounding both frightened and angry though at whom Steve can’t tell. “I need the…I have to get back.”

“Ok,” Steve says in what he thinks is a soothing voice scooting a little closer, only to freeze when the kid rears back. He lifts his hands so that Chris can see them before trying again. “I’ll pay you, five hundred dollars, right? More,” he says swiftly seeing the disappointment on the kid’s face. “I’ll pay you more to spend the day with me,” Steve says because asking the kid to move into his house makes him sound too much like a kidnapper.

“What?” Chris snaps. “Man, this isn’t “Pretty Woman” and I am not going anywhere else with you. Just give me the money…”

Chris slides off the bed then, naked as a jaybird and obviously uncomfortable, probably looking for his clothes though Steve knows he won’t find them. The kid is turning away to walk into the bathroom when Steve says, “Stop!”

The order gets Chris to still at least momentarily waiting as if to see what Steve will do. Sliding over to sit on the kid’s edge of the bed, Steve snags a wrist and pulls Chris’s back against his chest, sitting on the bed between Steve’s thighs. Steve wraps his arms around Chris’s waist, forcing Chris’s arms to lie awkwardly on top.

Chris is stiff against him and it might have something to do with the stiffness of Steve’s dick pressing through cotton against Chris’s ass. Then again as Steve pulls the kid tighter against him, he looks down to see Chris’s cock is at half-mast too, rising thickly away from the kid’s body.

Steve turns his head, breathing hot against the kid’s ear before dragging his teeth along the outer cartilage. It’s amazing how the simple move changes the entire atmosphere. Chris’s breath deepens as he relaxes slightly against Steve’s body. With one hand then, Steve tilts the kid’s head back against his shoulder baring the sensitive underside of Chris’s jaw to Steve’s mouth.

“I want you to move in with me,” Steve breathes the words against Chris’s neck, low and seductive. Chris starts, pushing away for a moment, but Steve holds him there with strong arms. He rubs his hands up and down far too obvious ribs once Chris has settled back again.

Slowly, he runs his hands up the kid’s body, lifting Chris’s arms up, up around his neck until he feels Chris’s hands grasp each opposite forearm around the back of Steve’s neck. He runs blunt, short nails down the curve of Chris’s bicep, through the sparse wiry hair in the indention of Chris’s armpit causing the kid to shudder in his arms, breath hitching.

“I want to take care of you,” Steve continues, running his palms down the outside of the kid’s torso and thighs and back up. “As long as you let me.”

Steve’s thumbs brush inwards, over the already pebbled buds of Chris’s nipples. The kid turns his face into the curve of Steve’s neck to muffle the plaintive noise he makes but Steve knows, knows and relishes how sensitive Chris is. His thumbs brush back and forth a few times, Chris’s body as tight as a bowstring in his arms now.

Chris’s cries turn louder in his ear as Steve plucks the nubs a few times before pinching them both and twisting. He looks down at the curve of Chris’s muscular body, chest arching into the pain instead of away from it. Doing it a second time, Chris’s hips momentarily leave the bed.

Hands turning soothing again, Steve runs them along Chris’s now sweat-slick torso as the kid struggles to breathe again, still whimpering and shuddering. Steve is actually surprised that Chris is keeping his arms firmly up and around Steve’s neck, clinging to him through the onslaught of sensation.

His own feet firmly on the soft carpet, Steve lifts Chris’s thighs over his own, spreading them wide, exposed and plaint to Steve’s wishes. To see the soft vulnerable interior of this kid’s prickly exterior gives Steve a possessive thrill, something more than what he’s ever felt with any actual date.

“You can have your own room,” Steve says. Chris is nearly hairless as Steve’s hands run up the inside of the kid’s thighs, the vulnerable crease between thigh and torso. He knows he should feel bad, that Chris is so young, so young that despite the morning stubble on the kid’s chin, Chris has only a small triangle of pubic hair so far. But Steve doesn’t feel bad as he rolls the smooth skin of Chris’s balls in his hand, Chris’s hips shifting in agitation and need.

Lifting his left hand to the kid’s mouth, Steve orders, “Spit.” Obeying instantly, Steve grasps Chris’s length in his now slick hand. He doesn’t stop Chris from fucking up into his hand.

“You can go to school or get a job. I’ll make you dinner, and breakfast. Anything, you can have anything, Chris. Just come with me.” Steve’s own breath is panting now as he moves his hand faster and faster, following the rhythm of Chris’s hips as they jerk and stutter off the bed.

It’s over an instant later, Chris’s arms pulling against Steve’ neck as his body goes taut, arching away from Steve as hot fluid runs over Steve’s hand, slicking it even more as it continue to glide over Chris’s cock. The kid’s hips punch into Steve’s fist a few more times as Chris groans intimately into Steve’s neck. And even as Chris falls back, limp and sated into Steve’s body, his arms still don’t loosen their hold.

Steve, however, is still hot and hard as he lifts his cum-covered hand to Chris’s face, pulling Chris up so Steve can kiss his lax willing mouth. But as enticing as Chris is, Steve pulls away when he finally feels smaller hands making their way up Steve’s own thighs though he hadn’t noticed Chris releasing Steve’s neck.

Wrapping his arms once again around Chris’s small waist, Steve stands them both up, walking them to the bathroom though he can sense Chris’s confusion.

“What about…” the kid starts, voice husky and hoarse, wrecked.

“Take a shower. I’ll order us some breakfast,” Steve orders and then turns away to wash his own hands in the sink.

He leaves Chris there in the shower, and goes to place the call. First he calls concierge. Last night he had sent the kid’s clothes as well as his own shirt to be washed and asked that a sweatshirt be bought. Once he’s confirmed that that has been done and that the clothes are on their way up, he calls room service for a big breakfast.

Putting the robe back in the bathroom for Chris to use, Steve is forced to answer the door in just his jeans to get their clothes. He knows he’s about one smashed television from being a rock star cliché as the bellhop looks him up and down. Yeah, Steve gives him a big tip.

His shirt on but unbuttoned, Steve takes the rest of the clothes into the bedroom, meeting Chris again fresh out of the shower and wrapped in the bathrobe. It’s so cute, Steve is thinking about buying it. He places the clothes on the bed, Chris’s clothes and the new sweatshirt still wrapped in plastic.

Chris’s mouth takes on a belligerent set, but the knock on the door interrupts them. “Get dressed,” Steve says. “And come have breakfast.”

By the time, breakfast is waiting on the table and Steve has again tipped the man at the door, Chris has appeared, surprisingly dressed in the clothes, even the sweatshirt. Chris’s expression is somewhere between petulant and seeking approval.

Steve smiles, gesturing to a seat at the small table. “Breakfast?” he offers gently.

The kid nods, once quickly and moves to take his seat. His eyes are trained on the food in front of him, but he doesn’t eat until Steve tells him to ‘dig in’.

Steve eats his simple breakfast of eggs over medium and toast as he watches the kid. Chris is careful at first. He eats a little of each thing that Steve ordered him, eggs scrambled and bacon and sausage and pancakes and a biscuit. He even stops then to sip at the orange juice. But it’s not long before he’s fairly shoveling the food in, as if he’s afraid it’ll be stolen away in the next moment.

Steve almost stops eating at the sight, the proof of the deprivations this kid has undergone, but Chris’s sharp eyes noticed immediately. Afraid that Chris will stop if he does, Steve brings another forkful to his mouth.

But as hungry as the kid apparently is, he can’t finish the sheer amount of food that Steve had ordered, though Chris’s big blue eyes look mournfully at what’s left. There’s obviously nothing that Steve can say that will reassure Chris though, reassure him that there will be food in Steve’s refrigerator, that Steve will give him food again and not just tomorrow.

Instead, Steve tells Chris to put on his shoes and they make their way back down the elevator to check out. And when they walk across the lobby, Steve takes Chris’s hand. If he’s going to be a cliché so be it, but he’s not going to hide it.


End file.
